Hymn of the Night
by Cherrie
Summary: VERY mild LeoPika. Kurapika finds himself wandering the decks of the ship in the middle of the night, unable to sleep.


**Notes and Disclaimers:** Hunter X Hunter is owned by Mr. Yoshihiro Togashi. Finally a bit of LeoPika coming around this HisoIllu-obsessed mind. It's mild, almost non-existent, but it's better than nothing. Please excuse whatever atmosphere or mood you might feel reading this fanfic. I'm currently in a grave state of depression, so please cheer me up somehow, ne? ~^^~

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**Hymn of the Night  
**by: Cherrie**  
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Ghostly whiteness crept through the darkened deck, an intangible reflection of the gentle moonlight that danced amidst the darkness of the night. The soft whispers of the wind sang its presence to be known, bringing with it a bitter cold that knew exactly how to cause a chill to run up a pair of bare arms. Footsteps were all that can be heard as each step met up with the old wooden floor, breaking the eerie silence with an icy sort of comfort.

Fogged blue eyes both seemed rather dark as they met up with the inky blackness of the sea, with only white specks of the moon's light to wash away the unfriendly color of the frigid waters. A moment was offered for him to grace the cold with its deserved shudder, his pale hands coming up to shield his arms pointlessly from the unwelcome bitterness. The heaviness inside of him seemed more and more unbearable, the memory of that lone ship that he had found that afternoon still tainted in the back of his mind. The pain threatened to engulf him whole, as if it was making up for the lost emotion that he had felt then when he gave it no room to grow. He had been more surprised than nostalgic, more afraid of the pain than saddened. It was only now that he noticed just how his mind and body ached at the sudden memory awakened inside of him.

The room he was supposed to share with Leorio suddenly seemed suffocating, and he left the dark emptiness of those four walls as quickly as his body allowed him to, stumbling on his way. Leorio wasn't there for some reason. At first, he was glad that he had the room alone, but when the night grew deep, he found the silence overpowering him, driving away his sleep. Various thoughts that were meant to be his nightmares started rushing inside his head, and his eyes immediately shut closed without the thought of sweet slumber.

He didn't know where he's walking to. His steps were dead and unfeeling, merely dragging the rest of his body wherever instinct made him go. Like a possessed rag doll, he made his way around the empty halls, weary cerulean eyes blank and hidden beneath the gold of his tousled mane, arms supporting himself in unconscious protectiveness.

He wanted to cry. That was it. That was the heavy feeling he's been having. He wanted to break down and just let everything go. Hopelessness and self-pity, the bitterness of his anger and the endless search to fulfill his life's mission, they all mixed inside him now, intermingled in a violent current of rare emotion that never seemed to grace him during the day. It was during these kind of moments where he'd ask himself why he still lived despite the loneliness. Will there ever be hope for him? What would become of him after this? Is vengeance all that he was living for now?

He had long accepted death. There was nothing else that he intended to do. Kill the bastards who destroyed his life, end his life once he's done. 

It was those kinds of thoughts that made him feel both strong and weak, both angered and sad, both resentful and lonely. And he wanted to cry. Cry for himself. Cry for those he loved. Cry for the cruelty of this unjust world. And yet all tears seem to dry up now, and every time he wished them to come, all that will come to him was a mad tightening of his chest. His eyes remain dry despite the way his body seemed to beg for them. He shakes, he chokes, but still his tears seemed to be just as cruel as the world he's walking in. He didn't know how to cry.

And now, he was tired. All he wanted was to sleep, to hide in the peaceful illusion his mind would fathom in his dreams. And yet, even sleep seemed to avoid him as well.

He realized that his steps have faltered, and that he was now standing in the middle of that dark hall, with only his thin night clothes to protect him from the cold. He felt as if his whole body had frozen, for a piercing heat was starting to make its way on the tip of his fingers, the bare skin of his feet and up his bare arms, making him feel numb.

It took him a few moments to look up, to see where his feet had led him to. For a moment, he thought he saw a ghost. An enchanting painting, where the very seraphim himself lost his wings and decided to come down to him. Dark brown hair guarded a softer brown eyes, which sparkled reflections of the calm waves made by the water below. The figure himself was slouched in a rather pensive manner, his gaze going further than the very horizons, his vision stretched out with the aid of a long, strong neck. The cold wind didn't seem to bother him, merely making his hair and the whiteness of his shirt dance around him in perfect harmony.

Minutes passed him by, yet all he did was stand still and stare at the enchanting picture presented to him. As if his gaze provoked his elusive presence to be known, the man broke the intensity of his stare with the sky to honor him with his attention.

Hours that were merely moments passed them both, wordless and silent. There was no welcoming warmth in those chocolate colored eyes, but neither was there resentment or an order for him to go away. Both of them remained still, neither spoke, neither acknowledging the other.

It was the other who broke their little staring game. He looked away, back to the indefinable direction he was looking at moments ago. "Lonely, isn't it?" His voice was low and emotionless, yet there was a raw sense of comfort mingling with his uncharacteristic silence. Supposedly, this man was cheerful, filled with life, robust and uncaring of the pains he bears inside of him.

But now, he looked just like...him. A reflection of himself. And just like him, this man doesn't have anywhere else to go back to once this part of their story is done. 

As if possessed again by that unknown force, he closed the distance between the two of them. His steps were heavy, disturbed, daring. For a second, he saw a look of surprise cross the other's face, but he eventually lost that vision, for his eyes immediately shut, and he allowed himself to fall into that warm embrace. For a few seconds, the intensity that the comfort brought to him seemed overwhelming, and his head spun violently from the unfamiliar sensation. How long has it been since he rejected this kind of intimacy?

His thoughts seemed empty, even as he felt strong arms wrap around him, intensifying the welcoming heat. Or perhaps, the emptiness only seemed to rise the most because everything just fell into a void in his mind, disabling him to think any further. How can this person bring such feeling in him?

"Would you like to go back to our room?" the other asked in a gentle, considerate voice. He was stroking his head tenderly, as if he was a child who needed comfort and understanding. In normal terms, he would've pushed him away. But now, he knew that he needed it. It didn't matter if he'll regret allowing this side of him to reign, all that mattered was that he would get rid of that aching loneliness he felt eating him from the inside.

A slight shake of the head served as his answer, and he felt the other nod. The older one leaned back, his arms holding him in a loose yet protective hold, and he could all but allow himself this rare moment of comfort. He rested his head on that warm chest, allowing that steady heartbeat to ease his very own, helping him push away his grief and anxiety. For a moment, he feared that the other would tease him, say something to make fun of him because of this strange behavior. But the silence around him was the very proof that this man who called himself a friend truly lived up to what he said he was.

The wind continued to blow its harsh chill, but this young one was not anymore bothered. The mutual understanding between him and the other man served as his blanket, the hum of the other's heart enough to lull him to sleep. And breaking all barriers of cruelty and unfairness, the corners of his closed eyes began to water, his soul finally letting go of a single tear...

**THE END**

Aah yes...the wonders of depression. I still don't understand why I can't cry XP I don't know how to. I just...er, hyperventilate o.O Talk about being human.

Thank you for giving this short thing a part of your time! Please leave me a note on your way, okay? ^_^ 


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